One day while I was absent from home, a man drove to the door the finest
span of horses, I think I ever saw,--black as jet, with proudly arched
necks, and glossy tails that nearly swept the ground. The gentleman sprang
from his carriage, bounded through the open door, and in the most excited
manner, began to inquire "who owns this establishment? When will he
return? Can I be accommodated? Can I see your barn?" &c. The stable boy
took him to the barn, from whence he soon returned; his face flushed, and
breathing so heavily as to be heard all through the apartment; trembling
so violently that he could scarcely speak at all,--but made out to
inquire, "if there was not some place besides the barn where he could put
his horses?" He was told that there was a small shelter built for cows, in
bad weather, and the next moment he was examining it. In a very short time
he had his horses and carriage stowed away in the cow-shed. He acted like
a crazy man; but when he had secured his horses, he re-entered the house
and frankly apologized for his conduct. "I may as well tell you the
truth," said he; "I am suspected of smuggling goods; a reward is offered
for my arrest, and the constables are on my track, in pursuit of me. My
name is Cannouse, and I am from M----, in Ontario County.
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